From the first hello to the last goodbye
by Clarinet
Summary: A story of Yue Ying and Zhuge Liang, from courtship to ZL's illness at Wuzhang Plains. About love, life, and loss.
1. Introduction

_(1.1) _

There is nothing more exasperating, more frustrating, and more incredibly painful than watching someone you love slowly succumb to illness, and being helpless to do anything about it. This is especially true when your helplessness stems from the fact that they will not care for themselves.

My husband's illness had been growing steadily worse over the past few months. But he hid it. Until quite recently, he hid it well. It is one of the most vexing problems in dealing with a sick patient; how can you make him well again if he will not admit to any symptoms? It began as a cough, which he claimed was merely a common cold. But over time we noticed other evidence of his declining health. He slept little, and had a poor appetite. His coughing became progressively worse. Sometimes, an odd look would come over his face, and he would miss whatever was being said in that moment. Then he would give his head a slight shake, as if to clear it, and smile and ask us to repeat what we'd said. I do not know if it was dizziness that seized him, or if he simply lost focus. He relied more and more often on his carriage, and was easily winded by even slight exercise. And, though I did not divulge this to anyone else, he ceased to show any signs of interest in me. I could not rouse his desire. On those occasions when I tried, he would turn me away, claiming there was too much work to be done and no time for leisure.

Yet so good was his act, so carefully set in place his mask of confidence, that for a long time he had us fooled as to the severity of his illness. And in fact, his behavior did not seem overly strange to us in the face of his dedication. He had always placed his work before personal needs, health, and desires. His ability to toil selflessly, giving complete priority to his public duty, had earned the admiration of his peers and enabled him to bring Liu Bei to power.

But now, the same dedication that had brought him so far was driving me to distraction. How could I possibly take care of him if he refused to even acknowledge his health, or that it was fading?

It was on a hot day during our army's march that I first caught a glimpse of the severity of his affliction. We were trekking along a narrow path. The horses had to be guided along the route, and he could not use his carriage. He seemed in fine shape as he strode ahead, overseeing the march and remarking on the difficulty of transporting supplies. But suddenly, he stopped talking, and stumbled. I moved to help him up, thinking he had merely tripped. But he did not rise when I took his arm. He sat braced, hands against the ground. He looked down at his limbs as if they belonged to someone else.

"Prime Minister!"

A few soldiers and officers had clustered round to make sure he was all right. I took a firmer grip on his arm and murmured his name. He made some effort then to rise, with my help, but he was unsteady. I was shocked at how light he was. I had not realized how much weight he had lost, seeing him everyday as I did. It alarmed me, and I asked if he needed any assistance.

He seemed as surprised at his own weakness as I was, and a bit annoyed at himself as well. He leaned on me and frowned. After a short while, he declared he was well, and marched on.

I followed close behind. The whole thing, so unexpected, fired off numerous doubts in my mind. Was it merely the heat, tiring my husband? Or maybe he was just exhausted from the march.

But then I thought of his expression when he had fallen. The mingled look of frustration and incomprehension. He sometimes wore such an expression after spells of dizziness. I thought to myself, _If he were merely feeling exhaustion, he should have spoken earlier. Why push himself, when he could have easily paused for a few moments? It would have been nothing much to ask. Unless…_

I felt a chill of worry. If he had been well and had felt unusually weak on a certain day, he would have tended to his health to make it recover quicker, or keep it from worsening. But if he was suffering a long-term, chronic illness that was continually impeding his work… Yes, of course then he would hide it. Or at least try to ignore it.

After that, what had before seemed minor, almost negligible symptoms, I saw now were just the few traces of his illness that he could not manage to suppress. That he was finally so weak as to succumb to them was a sign that he had been sick for a very long time.

Soon after that I confronted him, begging him to rest, to give himself time to recover. He denied the severity of his condition. I persisted. Finally, seeing I would not relent, he brushed my concern aside by saying that he would rest after we had captured the central plains. He would hear no more conversation on the subject, and thereafter, he began to distance himself from me.

Do you have any idea what it is like to stand by, watching, as the person you love wilts away, and you are helpless to make them take care of themselves? I had no more power to force him to treat his illness than I have power to move the sun. Sometimes, I felt so angry that I wished him well in his folly, and if he suffered for it, that was right; it was the natural consequence of his stubbornness.

But inside, it was tearing me apart.

_(1.2) _

We met when the turmoil in the land was at its height, and the three kingdoms had not yet been formed. I was in my late teens, slipping past the age when most young women ought to have been married. My poor father despaired that I would never find a husband. Had I been beautiful it would have been easy for him engage me to a man of decent rank; but I was plain. And more than being plain – I was headstrong.

"Who will marry a woman that can outclass him in martial arts?" he demanded of me.

"A very wise man," I replied.

"Who will marry a woman so willful? You must try to be more submissive and feminine. A man does not want a wife who will defy him."

"Then he should not seek to marry me," I replied.

My father threw up his hands and sighed. "At this rate you will never find a husband!"

"That's not true, father. I'll gladly submit to someone -- provided he is my superior in both wisdom and strength."

My father looked grave at this pronouncement. He could have forced me to marry, of course; but he had too much love for me, and too much respect for my opinion, to act directly against my will. He reminded me that he wished to have grandchildren. I reiterated my promise that if he could find a man to fit my qualifications, I would accept him.

My supposition, of course, was that such a man would never be found. One might think me an ungrateful, spoiled daughter, to so willfully oppose my father's wishes. But it must be understood… I could not bear the idea of a life of servitude. A husband might forbid me from wielding a weapon, from studying the art of war, from tinkering with my inventions -- especially if I surpassed him in such things. Then I would be like a bird with clipped wings, constrained by an owner jealous that he could not fly himself – who therefore would not have me do so, either.

It was a fate I deeply dreaded. Fortunately, my father was a liberal, gentle soul; another man might hardly have borne such a daughter.

One day, as I came home from a sparring session with my trainer in the martial arts, I found my father waiting for me. He was in very high spirits, and when I asked him the reason, he took my hands with a smile and claimed he had found a suitor for me.

I was less than thrilled. "Who is he?"

"He is a scholar of extraordinary brilliance, called Sleeping Dragon. His name is Zhuge Liang, styled Kongming. I have known him for some while. Today I mentioned you to him, and found that he had already heard rumors of your talents. He seemed to have some interest in you, so I immediately made him an offer, and he asked to meet you. However, you were away for the day, so I asked him to come by tomorrow."

"You made him an offer?" I cried, appalled.

"It was too good an opportunity to waste. You will not find a better man," he insisted.

"But father—"

"Remember the promise you made to me," he reminded me sternly.

I scowled, and had no reply to that. I was furious at him for having arranged this whole matter without my consent. In a huff I retreated to my room. There I brooded, thinking gloomily about what my future servitude would be like if I were forced to marry this Sleeping Dragon. My father, who felt a little guilty for his hastiness, came in to see me later and try to assuage my fears. By then I had a plan. I told him, "I understand, father, that you are acting in my best interests. But I must be sure this suitor is indeed worthy of your esteem. If he can pass three tests, I will acknowledge his superiority and submit to him."

My father groaned. He seemed most reluctant to ask what my tests were. When I told him, he sighed and threw up his hands. "Very well, I will let this be your last defiance; when you have been bested you will submit wholeheartedly."

If _I am bested_, I thought, and hurriedly set off to make arrangements for my first test – one which I was sure would make any subsequent trials unnecessary. I enlisted the help of a young and very fair maiden named Xing Hua. Her cheeks were like blossoms, her skin soft as silk, her eyes bright and merry, her lips rose red. She had a coquettish smile and laughter like the silvery peal of little bells. I dressed her in fine clothing, and gave her some instructions.

The next day, Zhuge Liang arrived at our house to meet me. From my place hidden behind a screen, I glimpsed him through a little hole I had cut. He was tall, cloaked in a white robe. There was something spiritual about him; I cannot quite describe it, only he seemed to me to have some keen penetration to his gaze, like the clairvoyance of a prophet. From his manner I sensed boundless confidence. It bothered me -- I recall thinking he was arrogant – but this may have been the product of the frame of mind I was in; I was not inclined to view him in a positive light.

Xing Hua was waiting in the back room. When my father called for me to come out, she answered in my place, introducing herself to Sleeping Dragon as Huang Yue Ying.

I watched eagerly, feeling a glow of triumph at the expression of delighted surprise on the face of my suitor at the sight of her. He exclaimed to my father, "The rumors about your daughter claimed that she was unattractive; how mistaken they are!"

_Fool!_ I thought, smirking.

"My daughter is very modest, and always insistent that we not overpraise her; that is why the rumors about her are unflattering," my father responded.

"But I have heard you are an excellent swordsman," Zhuge Liang said to Xing Hua.

She smiled, batting her eyelashes shyly, and replied, "Father insisted I learn for my own protection. Alas, I am not very capable with a blade."

"No need to be modest," said Zhuge Liang. "Rumor has it that you wield a scythe with the skill of a great general."

"You overrate me, Master Sleeping Dragon," she said. "But yes, the scythe is my weapon of preference."

"If your father does not mind, I would love to see a demonstration. Why not have a bout against me?"

I had already told my father and Xing Hua how to respond to this sort of request. The girl lowered her eyes and softly demurred. My father explained that she was not feeling well today.

"Ah," said Zhuge Liang, nodding. "In that case, do not worry about it. Women are not really meant to wield weapons, anyway. It is too strenuous, and taxes their weak natures. You should be more careful, and not overstrain yourself," he told Xing Hua.

Behind the screen, I fumed. But I was not going to give myself away in my anger. _At least_, I thought to myself, _this first test will have me rid of him. _

The young pair continued to converse. Zhuge Liang made mention of some of my other talents, and began questioning Xing Hua about the stars.

"I have been observing the celestial phenomena recently," he said. "From it I gather that the Emperor will soon experience good fortune."

I had observed the stars last night, and knew that what he said was utter nonsense; but Xing Hua fell right into his trap. "Yes, I noticed that, too," she said.

"Oh? You had the same thought? There are some who disagree with me. Pray tell, how did you reach that conclusion?"

I groaned inwardly as the girl, not sure how to answer at this point, blushed prettily and stammered, "The host stars were… ah… bright. And the guest stars were weak. And… a shooting star went through the Big Dipper…"

As she spoke, a smile spread across Zhuge Liang's face. He seemed as if he were about to laugh. "I see. Thank you for enlightening me. Your wisdom is spoken of widely – now I understand why. There is not another woman whose intellect is so highly praised. If it is not too much to ask, perhaps you will do me the kindness of offering me your interpretation of a dream I had last night?"

Xing Hua threw a desperate glance towards my father. He pretended not to notice; clearly, he was on the side of the suitor. _Traitor_, I thought to myself. Zhuge Liang rose and recited,

"In the moonlit garden of a dream

The air was filled with heavenly song

A bird trilled somewhere down the path

Enchanted, I walked along…

At the source of the silvery sound

What a surprise was to be found!

A peacock, brilliant plumage bright

As bold as day covering the night."

For an ad lib, it was more than fair. Xing Hua completely missed the point. "You are going to attain great happiness in your future," she said, eyes shining at what she thought was a decent interpretation. "The peacock is a brilliant fortune, waiting for you. It is an auspicious sign."

Behind the screen, I sighed. She could not see that the pretty, ornamental peacock was herself, that the birdsong was the rumors about me, and that the source of those rumors was the plain looking but talented nightingale, who was currently hidden behind the peacock's plumage. Zhuge Liang pretended to be enlightened by Xing Hua's words; but it was clear that he had seen through my little test, and was having a great deal of fun proving it.

Still, I did not come out yet. Hopefully, he would feel put off enough by the whole affair that he'd lose interest in me. My father sent Xing Hua away, and asked Zhuge Liang if he found his daughter agreeable.

"The young lady is very beautiful," replied Zhuge Liang. "I am charmed by her manner. But I fear that I would make her a poor husband. I am only a farmer; how could I give her the care she deserves? With her great beauty, you could easily obtain a more advantageous match."

"Yet she has had few suitors, and none she deems acceptable…" murmured my father.

"It is because of the rumors about her," said Zhuge Liang, with a wave of his feather fan. "They're all wrong. It's no wonder no one has come to ask for her hand. But not to worry; I'll set that right. I shall make sure that people know that she is a woman of great beauty, though perhaps less intellectual renown than she has been given credit… You will not have long to wait. Men seeking a lovely wife will come flocking to your home in droves."

This was more than I could stand. The last thing I wanted was for him to leave and start spreading rumors that would send all sorts of shallow men my way. I stepped out from behind the screen. "Please do not spread false rumors about me, Master Sleeping Dragon."

My father and would-be suitor both looked my way, expressions of astonishment on their faces.

"Who are you?" said Zhuge Liang.

Deciding to drop any further pretense, I introduced myself as Huang Yue Ying. My father was thoroughly embarrassed as I explained my test, more so because he had participated in it. He apologized profusely to Zhuge Liang, and added, "Now you see why I fear she'll never be married!"

This in turn embarrassed me. Zhuge Liang started laughing. To soothe our ruffled nerves he said to my father, "No need for apologies; her concern is understandable. If a man were to be swayed so easily by superficial qualities, how could you entrust your daughter to him?"

This made me feel a little better disposed towards him. He turned to me, and said with genuine warmth, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Huang. Forgive my remarks just now; I meant only to incite you to show yourself."

"I see my little trick didn't fool you in the least," I said, smiling. "It is I who must ask your forgiveness. My behavior must seem quite inexcusable. I hope I've not offended you."

"Quite the contrary," he said. He cocked his head, smiling a little, and said, "Truly, the rumors about you do not do you justice. I presume you spread them yourself?"

He was referring to rumors that I was an intelligent, but extremely ugly woman. People who knew me knew that this was not true; but I had spread word of my ugliness in order to discourage suitors who would be interested only in superficial qualities. Zhuge Liang had heard those rumors; but he'd also had a much truer account from my father.

"You are correct; I did indeed cause those rumors to be spread," I said. "A man who could not see past my skin would find nothing of interest in me."

"And what sort of man do you think would come to seek your hand?"

I shrugged. "I do not know."

He smiled, and held out his hand towards me. "Miss Huang, will you come for a walk with me in the garden?"

"If it would please you," I said. I had no wish to encourage him; but he had passed the first test, so it was only fair I give him some chance to earn my good will. I caught a glimpse of my father's face as we strolled outside. He was smiling, thoughtfully stroked his beard. It made me sigh inwardly, but I was quickly distracted from thoughts of disappointing him when Zhuge Liang called my attention to a device that I had been using to transport gardening supplies.

"Is this something of your own invention?" he asked.

I told him it was. He knelt to examine it, seeming highly interested as he examined its structure. In fact, it was the prototype from which he later designed the Wood Ox. We soon fell into discussion about it, and finding in him a sympathetic ear to one of my interests that few people shared, I showed him some other things I had been working on. He had a flare for invention himself, and asked if he might share some designs with me sometime, and have my opinion on them.

No one but my father had ever valued my mechanical experiments so much before, and his admiration pleased me. But I had not forgotten the two tests remaining for him, nor had I given up hope of discouraging him. Noting that he carried no sword, I remarked on the fact.

"This a peaceful area," he said. "There is no need to go about armed."

"But you intended to challenge me to a sword match?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh no," he said, chuckling. "I don't think so."

"Is it because you fear I am too weak?"

"No, I only said that to try to rile you. In truth, I imagine your talent exceeds the rumors; after all, you are a woman. For a man to gain acclaim is not too difficult; for a woman it is much harder."

This mollified me somewhat, but I said anyway, "Well, I shall be more than happy to give you a demonstration of my skills, if you wish to try them."

He smiled and replied, "Do I appear to you to be a warrior, Miss Huang?"

I glanced him up and down. He did not have the build or the poise of a man used to wielding weapons; but this did not mean he might not have some skill with them.

"Appearances can be deceiving," I replied, noting calluses on his hands.

He nodded agreement, and catching my observation, he showed me his hands and explained, "These calluses are from farmwork, not swordplay. I would like to see a demonstration of your skill sometime; but I would make an inadequate opponent."

_Ah_, I thought. So much for him passing my tests. The first he had seen through easily; the second was a match of wits, and it was possible he could win that, too. But the third was a duel, and in that he would fail.

I might have challenged him then and there, and put an end to the whole courtship matter quickly; but it would have seemed a strange thing to do after our amiable conversation. The test, I decided, could wait. With the security that I could best him anytime (and thereby evade marriage, if it came to that), I stopped worrying, and started instead to simply enjoy exchanging ideas with someone who shared similar interests with me.

As we continued our stroll, our conversation digressed to the art of war. We spoke of strategy, discussed some of the battles that had divided the country in the past years, and contemplated the future. We talked of things we had seen in the stars, and debated over various interpretations of heavenly signs. The longer we spoke, the more I came to realize that this man was no ordinary scholar. No indeed… his intellect far surpassed mine. I did not notice the hours passing swiftly by; it seemed only the blink of an eye, and then the sun's light was fading in the western sky. Zhuge Liang apologized for having stayed so long.

For my part, I was surprised at my reluctance to see him go. He promised to come and see me again, and bade me farewell.

After his departure, my father said to me, "It was very tolerant of Kongming to overlook your little ploy. He seems, in spite of it, to look favorably on you. It is more than I had hoped for."

"He is a clever man, and seems kind," I replied. "However, he is not a warrior."

My father frowned. "If you are so picky, you will lose the best opportunity of your life. If he makes an offer, you must accept."

I did not answer. Though I was impressed with Zhuge Liang's intelligence and with what seemed kindness and generosity in his nature, I still considered him an antagonist in this courtship. And yet, that evening, as I went to sleep, I found my thoughts returning to him. I wondered… _What does he think of me? Did I bore him? Did I seem too forward, too opinionated? To someone so clever I must have appeared very foolish…_ I had never been so concerned with another's opinion of me before. It bothered me. I recalled the humor and ready wit sparkling in his eyes, the almost ethereal quality about him… no matter how I tried, I could not shake him from my thoughts.

_Next time_, I thought, _I will test him, and resolve the matter once and for all._

Strangely, instead of reassurance, this thought brought with it only a sense of deep reluctance.


	2. For better or for worse

_(2.1) _

I had always thought that men viewed love as a conquest; that when a suitor came for me, he would seek to master me, as a man masters a dog or a horse. For this reason, when Zhuge Liang came to seek my hand, I gave him no chance before I challenged him. He readily answered my first test; but had I been more patient, I would have seen -- it was not his goal to subjugate me, either by force of arms or intellect.

How ironic it is! If he had passed my three tests and tried to bend me to his will, I would have fought him to the death; but in the end he mastered me without even trying.

On his second visit, he brought with him some of his designs, as promised. I had a pair of swords ready, that I might duel him, but I was reluctant to issue my challenge. Glad for an excuse to delay it, I sat down with him to study the designs.

Such marvelous ideas he had, and a brilliant mind for invention! It was not long before I was so caught up in examining his work, I forgot the swords completely. Over the next hour, my father discreetly removed them; but by then we were too engrossed in conversation for me to care.

We lamented the turmoil that the land was in. I asked if he ever thought it would end. He said, "It will eventually; but perhaps not in our lifetime. However, within the next few years, we will see a sort of stability emerge in a triangle of powers."

"You think so?" I said, surprised.

He nodded. "Most assuredly."

"How do you mean?"

He rose, lifting a stick from the ground. In quick, bold strokes, he sketched in the dirt. Before my startled gaze, a perfect map of the empire appeared. Zhuge Liang drew a line around the vast northern segment and wrote on it.

"The north has been claimed by Cao Cao. The south…" He sketched another division. "… belongs to the Sun family. Liu Zhang in the west is weak; there is no one there to unify the area. Someone of ability shall take it, and that will make the third partition in the balance of power."

As he spoke, a shiver crept along my spine. Though I wondered how he could possibly be certain, something in his words rang true to me. For the first time, I began to see that Zhuge Liang was no ordinary scholar. His abilities, and his vast array of knowledge, I had only glimpsed the surface of. Already I knew his intellect surpassed mine, and yet… As I looked down at that perfect reproduction of the empire, drawn so easily from memory, I felt something like awe. But I did not comment on this remarkable feat. Instead, my eyes were drawn to his feather fan. I had been wondering about it, and I asked, "Why do you carry that fan?"

He gave the item in question a glance. "It's to remind me of a teacher I once had."

"May I see it?"

For the first time I saw a trace of reluctance in his face. Evidently, the item was quite precious to him, though he did offer it to me.

My fingers brushed against his as I took it. It was the faintest contact; yet it lingered in my awareness. "You say it reminds you of a teacher?" I said, running my hand along the soft feathers.

"Yes, and of a lesson he taught me."

"What lesson was that?"

"One about which you have shown far more wisdom than I, without the need for any correction," he said, a hint of mirth in his voice. To my look of puzzlement, he added, "I was drawn in by a woman who was very beautiful. She was nothing but trouble; but she was quite charming, and for a while I neglected all other things in order to see her."

"Ah…" My eyebrows shot up. This was not a confession I had expected to hear from him. Naturally, I did not think well of him for it. "So there was a time when you would have failed my little test."

"Nobody is born wise," replied Zhuge Liang. "We have many experiences over our lifetimes; the wise are those who learn from them."

"Nevertheless, _I_ would not have been beguiled by this woman's beauty."

He chuckled. "I suspected you would be displeased."

"And well you deserve it," I replied, feeling as if I had been a little deceived. I had been under the impression that he was a man to look past appearances; but apparently he was like any other -- easily swayed by a woman's beauty. _Is it too much to expect to find a man who can look beyond such things? _

"I certainly did then," Zhuge Liang agreed with me. "But I am not the same fool I was those years ago."

"How am I to be sure you will not judge by looks again?"

"I would not have told you the story if I had not learned from it," he replied. "I am not infallible. What person is? To be human is to endure a lifetime of mistakes." He arched an eyebrow at me. "Perhaps you've never made any?"

I flushed, annoyed at his words, because they were true. "None as glaringly obvious, anyway."

He laughed at that. "I see. It seems I really have offended you. Well I'm sorry; I can't help what I did in the past. Since I can't be forgiven perhaps I'd better leave, but I'll have my fan back, first."

I held onto it, regarding him thoughtfully as he waited for me to hand it back. In truth, I was quite annoyed by this story he'd told; but was it not better for him to have admitted it to me, than to have denied it? I found my thoughts drifting back to an event that had happened in my childhood. It brought a slight frown to my lips. Returning his fan to him, I told him, "Since you have given me so candid a confession, I will give you one in turn."

That roused his curiosity. What I subsequently admitted was not a tale I am proud of; but he had shared some folly of his, and I decided to reciprocate.

"When I was a child," I said, "my father had me instructed in the martial arts, knowing how dangerous the world is and that I might benefit from being able to protect myself. My master agreed to teach me only because of my father's reputation as a scholar; but he viewed me as an inferior to his boy students, and a waste of time. However, by my hard work and dedication, I gradually overcame his bias. Soon I was one of his best students.

"One day, I got into an argument with an older boy of my class. He challenged me to a duel. The agreement was that whoever lost would leave the school and never study martial arts again. I realized afterwards what a fool I'd been to make such a bargain. He was the superior student; if I followed through with our duel, he would surely defeat me, and I would have to cease my studies. I was too proud to back down, but bound to lose. What I ended up doing was a greater shame than either…

"I drugged his drink before the match, and won. But my teacher saw from my opponent's symptoms that he was unwell, and it did not take him long to learn what had happened. Furious, he threw me out of the school. My father was deeply ashamed. For weeks he would not speak to me."

During my recitation, a thin frown appeared on my suitor's face. As I paused, he flicked his sleeves dismissively and turned his back, saying, "Your father was lenient. For a student to behave in such a way is unthinkable. Have you no sense of honor?"

His harsh tone astonished me. "I was a child!" I exclaimed. "Of course I should never behave in such a way now! At the time I was only eight years old. I only told you because—" I stopped, for he was glancing at me over his shoulder, his face partially hidden by the feather fan. But there was an amused sparkle in his eyes. I suspected that behind the fan, he was smiling. Realizing he was only toying with me, I exclaimed, "Ah, I see your game!" _All right, so perhaps I deserved that…_ I had been rather quick to judge him on his past mistake, after all. Nevertheless, I was a little nettled at his way of pointing it out to me.

Zhuge Liang chuckled, and soothed my irritation somewhat when he said gently, "Of course I understand that you've learned better since. At least you have the excuse of having been only a child. I'm sure it was quite a hard lesson for you. Did your master eventually forgive you?"

"Yes… after many weeks of penitence and a solemn oath that I would never do anything dishonest again. When I remember his scolding, I still feel shame. It struck me to the very core. I shall never forget his disappointment, or my father's. From that mistake, I have spent my life trying to prove myself to them. In a way, it was better it happened… else I'd not have been so dedicated."

Liang looked contemplatively at his feather fan and replied, "Well do I understand that feeling."

At that, we stood together in silence for a little while, each lost in our own thoughts. We were barely acquaintances, yet our shared experiences forged a sympathetic bond between us. As each of us saw life a bit more clearly through the other's eyes, I found myself drawn to him.

When I glanced up from my reverie, I saw that he was looking at me. It made me uncomfortable; but it was not an unpleasant sort of discomfort. Feeling rather self-conscious, I said, "I am now my teacher's best student. He holds me up as an example for the others. When they err in judgment, he points to me as one whom they should follow."

"A year after this affair," said Zhuge Liang, "my teacher claimed I had learned all he had to teach me. He was well pleased, and sent me out into the world."

He smiled at me. I returned the smile, which brought a warm flush to my cheeks. We both laughed at the folly of our youth, and sitting down on a bench, we fell deep into conversation, all feelings mended between us.

The rest of the afternoon flew by so swiftly it seemed we had barely begun to talk, and then it was over. When Zhuge Liang prepared to take his leave, he said to me, "My teacher's final advice to me was never to be confused by the illusionary surface of the world, and to see everything in its true form. Miss Huang, you may think yourself plain; but you are a far more beautiful woman than any other I have ever met. Whatever your decision will be, I consider myself fortunate to have been allowed these hours in your presence. Take care."

With these words he was gone, leaving me breathless. I felt a rush of emotions I can neither explain nor describe.

How can I tell about the beauty of those days? It seems a lifetime ago… Over the next two weeks Zhuge Liang continued to pay frequent visits, and meanwhile my feelings towards him were steadily changing. My heart would beat erratically in his presence. Whenever our eyes met, warmth bubbled like anxious butterflies inside me, and each time he left, a sense of emptiness followed like a shadow. I was unused to such emotions. I marveled at them, and at the same time feared them. Who was this person I was becoming? Where had the calm, collected, self-assured woman gone whom I had worked so hard to cultivate? In his presence, my mind scattered. I felt giddy, foolish, and most wondrous of all – delighted to be that way. At the same time it hurt. There was an ache in my soul that seemed to grow daily. It became a restless yearning I felt whenever Zhuge Liang was absent.

"You are in love," my father told me.

I scoffed, denying the notion because I was afraid of what it might mean for me if it were true. But one day, a conversation with Xing Hua settled the matter. She had come to visit me in order to learn the fate of the young man she had been employed to deceive.

"Master Huang tells me you have not issued your remaining tests," she said.

"So what if I haven't?" I replied. "A man might pass them and prove to be a terrible husband. Because he might outdo me does not mean he will treat me well."

"True," said Xing Hua. "_I_ would not have set such tests to begin with. But I think it is a good thing you decided not to go through with them with Master Sleeping Dragon." She smiled. "He would have failed at the duel. What a shame that would have been!"

I had no reply to this.

Xing Hua giggled at my silence. She went on, "Yue Ying, I think you should marry him. He is so handsome, after all!"

"That is the worst reason I can conceive of for marrying someone," I replied. "Have you forgotten the purpose of the little ploy you helped me with?"

"Oh, it was a very clever test for him. But still… there's more to marriage than just having a smart person to talk to and play chess with."

"Yes, well…" She was right of course; but I was young and inexperienced, and not comfortable discussing the finer details of married life.

"… after all," the girl went on, in what was almost a lecturing tone, "there are other things you have to _do_ with your husband. And better to do them with a handsome man than an ugly one. Many clever scholars are old and ugly, but quite renowned. Be glad your father didn't pick one of them. Can you imagine kissing some wrinkled, fishy old lips? At least Master Kongming—"

"Xing Hua!" I exclaimed, glaring.

"Well it's true," she said, thrusting out her lip in a pout. "You're so impractical! These are things one ought to think about. It's not just chess and conversation."

"I am quite well informed about the expectations of a married couple; and I've considered them." I felt myself blushing at this admission, and wished she would let the topic drop.

Xing Hua arched her eyebrows. "Oh, you _have_, have you? Sometimes I wonder about you. You never talk about such things; it makes me wonder how much you do consider them. What do you think of him? Don't you think he's handsome?"

"I consider everything," I said curtly. "And I consider appearance to be of less importance than almost any other aspect of a person's character. My admiration for Kongming has nothing to do with the way he looks."

"What a waste to bestow him on you, then!" she teased. Tossing her pretty head, she added with a giggle, "Well if you won't take him, I will!"

"He wouldn't have you," I replied. The sharpness in my own voice surprised me.

It surprised Xing Hua, too, for I had never spoken to her in such a tone before. She stared at me a moment, then laughed and declared, "I see you've already claimed him!"

This brought a frown to my lips, but I did not deny it. I was too busy thinking, wondering… what if he found another woman, while I delayed making my decision? Her words (which I later learned my father had composed for her, the cunning old fox…) had set off alarms in my mind. For the first time I saw the possibility of losing Zhuge Liang; it was shocking to me how painful such an idea seemed. The sting of it lodged in my heart. It was this insecurity that drove me to speak plainly to my suitor on his next visit.

"I feel I must warn you, my father has said I will make a very poor wife."

"I do not think your father would say that. He adores you; and his esteem for you is evident from the degree of freedom he has given you," replied Zhuge Liang.

"He is desperate to get me married, and will say anything to get me off his hands," I said. "The truth is that I am a willful and difficult woman. I take no pleasure in domestic behavior; that is why he has allowed me to spend my time on inventions and studying."

"I know all this already."

"I will never be anything but a plain woman."

"You are far from plain. If I had wanted to marry a Xing Hua, I would not have come seeking you."

So it went, back and forth, as I gave voice to every doubt rising within me, and he calmly countered them. When he had refuted them all, I felt my last shreds of resistance break away. I hesitated a moment more, and then said, in a voice that was perfectly steady, though within my heart was pounding, "Well then Master Sleeping Dragon, if after all you have heard of me -- if in spite of all my flaws you see something in me worth possessing – I shall gladly accept your offer. From this day forward, I will be yours."

I bowed deeply to him, submitting my life in service. Zhuge Liang quickly pulled me up and put a stop to such gestures. He was delighted at my words, and brought me in to offer my announcement to my father. On hearing that we had finally settled the matter, my father laughed and embraced both of us. The two men discussed the particulars, and a date was set for our wedding.

_(2.2) _

Such sweet memories are a balm to the bitterness of life, but also a sad reminder of what is gone. Those early days were full of emotional turmoil for me. But it was a wonderful sort of tumult. My racing heart, blushing cheeks, quickly stolen glances at the man who had claimed my affection… Yes, I was very much in love, and all aflutter around my wonderful fiancé. I do not know if he felt the same ardor as I – in fact, I rather doubt it -- but I do recall that he was always in high spirits, resonating with boundless energy. Life was beautiful, it was exuberant, it was painfully vivid and rich, as if all those days we were drunk, and the heady wine was the simple fact of being.

Such days, alas, only come once in a lifetime; and when they have passed, they remain etched in the memory like words on a gravestone… marking something irretrievable and indescribably precious. The days passed and I reminisced about our youth, while in the present, the husband who had grown distant from me slowly worked himself to death.

Sima Yi had checked our attempts at advance time and time again. Zhuge Liang had Wei Yan go out every day to harass the Wei camp with taunts and insults, but still Sima Yi refused to come out and engage our army. Against his defensive tactics, my husband could do nothing. If we did not come up with a plan soon to lure out Sima Yi and defeat him, this would be another expedition ending in failure.

Jiang Wei and I racked our brains for some idea, but found none. If there was to be a brilliant strategy to bring us the victory, Zhuge Liang would have to conceive it. He spent day and night pondering the problem. We could only wait. Meanwhile, he grew sicker… but I could say nothing to him. Of late, he had arranged tasks that kept me occupied, so that I could not pester him.

On a mild summer afternoon, I came to visit my overworked husband, who had spent most of the day in his tent, poring over maps and charts. I was supposed to be drilling one of our units in the use of the arbalests; but I had persuaded Jiang Wei to take my duty for the day. I suggested to Zhuge Liang that a change of scenery might aid his thought process, and asked if he would come out for a walk. He looked momentarily surprised to see me, but evidently his efforts were not going well, for he pushed the charts aside in disgust, muttering, "I may as well…"

We went outside. Predictably, his inclination was to tour the camp – which he could at least excuse as work. I did not think exchanging one task for another was going to help matters, and suggested instead, "Let's go up to the top of that ridge, and watch the sun set. We'll see what we can of the landscape; maybe it will give you some ideas."

He looked doubtful, but I was insistent. I think he acquiesced only because he felt too ill, his thoughts too scattered, for him to argue with me. I ordered horses saddled, and the two of us set off. The path we took carried us far from the camp, and we were soon engulfed in the splendor of nature. At the crest of the ridge, we paused. The view was breathtaking; it reminded me painfully of home, where so many years ago we had often gone for long walks in appreciation of the scenery around us. I dismounted and suggested, "Let's rest here for a bit, and watch the sun set."

He agreed, if only to humor me. We were soon standing side by side, the wind brushing against our faces and the sunlight throwing dazzling rays across the world. I clasped his hand in mine as we watched the light slowly descend. It was like a phoenix dying on the horizon.

Next to me, my husband sighed.

"It's so peaceful up here," I said.

"It is," he acknowledged. A frown touched the corners of his lips. "It's very beautiful… The land has always been beautiful; but the ravages of war have destroyed so much. It will take generations to cleanse it of the blood that's been shed."

_… if we succeed_. He left that thought unspoken, but both of us felt it, hanging heavily in the silence. I squeezed his hand, reassuring him, "We will restore peace to the land." If only he had been a less perceptive man; then the confidence in my tone might have cheered him. But he knew too well the doubts I felt.

He made no reply. It did not surprise me -- these days, he spent most of his time ignoring me. I turned to look at him. There was a faint glimmer in his eyes, which he blinked away, squinting against the sun's golden light.

"… my dear?" I queried.

"Our lord's dream was to unite the land and protect the people," he said softly. "What a shame that he could not live to see it fulfilled."

Mention of our lord brought a hollow ache to my chest, like the pain of an old wound. I kinder man than Liu Bei, I have never met. At our first meeting he apologized to me, bowing his head and saying, "My lady, it is on my account that your husband shall be hereafter embroiled in the chaos of the world. I wish to put an end to the trouble, and bring peace to the land. But for that purpose, I have taken from you your peaceful life. Truly, I am sorry."

Such a gentle man he was… There was nothing that pained him more than to see the people suffering. Though we called him lord, he was not only a master to us; he was a dear friend. When he came to plead for my husband's help, his sincerity earned Liang's devotion to his cause. In the years that followed, Liu Bei's nobility and compassion turned that devotion to friendship, from friendship to dedication, to undying affection. Any one of us would have been gladly chopped to pieces for him.

There was no doubt that Zhuge Liang loved his lord more than his family, more than his wife or his own son. The loyalty of servant and master was a thing profound; yet I loved my husband all the more for it. For you see, I, too, lived under the spell of Liu Bei's vision. To restore the empire, to bring peace to the land… we would have offered our lives, our souls… anything.

But now, it seemed as if all we had already given, and all that those who had come before us had given, would be for naught. Liu Bei and his brothers were dead. The Five Tiger Generals were dead. Zhao Yun, the last to die and the most methodical and reliable of the five, had been a dear friend to my husband and I. Losing him had been like losing a limb… I felt crippled. To my husband, to whom Zhao Yun was the closest friend after Liu Bei, I cannot imagine what a blow it had been. Zhao Yun had been the last connection to our late lord – the final member of a fading generation.

Now, it was only the two of us. There was no one from the time of our lord's life. No one but me. And from me Zhuge Liang had grown distant, moving progressively farther as my attempts to tend to his health interfered, as he saw it, with his struggle to fulfill his master's dream.

If only he knew… there was nothing I wanted more to see accomplished. But how could it happen, if he drove himself to death?

The last glimmer of the sun winked out at the horizon. I breathed in deeply, looking out over the beauty of the landscape, and the world seemed empty. I leaned close to my husband, taking his arm and holding it. He was all I had left. But for him… I don't even know if I counted anymore. He had only the shattered remnants of a dream.

Thinking of the distance between us made me sad. I felt the past closing in, tugging ever more strongly on my consciousness, and I closed my eyes over tears as I rested my head on his shoulder. Lost in his own thoughts, he did not respond. After a bit, I said quietly, "The world is a harsher place without him. His compassion made the lives of the common people bearable."

"Yes…" agreed Zhuge Liang. I felt him sigh. "His greatest wish was for the peoples' happiness. There was such goodness… such kindness in him… How could I repay that with failure?"

The tremor of regret in his voice shook me. While he lived, Liu Bei's dream had been a light of hope to all of us. Now that he was dead, it was a hole gnawing at my husband's soul, haunting him with the fear of failure. Over health, family, life… it consumed him. I wonder if Liu Bei knew, when he passed his dream onto his faithful strategist, what a burden he was laying upon him?

I would have comforted him if I could, but he was too far from me now to heed anything I might say. Besides, what consoling words could I offer? If he was so depressed, it meant he had no idea how to counter Sima Yi's stubborn defense, and we would lose once again and eventually be forced to retreat. After so many failures, and with his health fading, what chance did we have of seeing another expedition?

Our only hope was that he think of something… he _must_ think of something. That was a burden he did not need reiterated to him, and I held my peace.

As if my heart were not constricted enough already, Zhuge Liang broke into a fit of coughing. I held to him, trying to help him recover his breath, but the fit was very bad. He sank to his knees, struggling for breath, and I hurried to get a water-filled gourd from one of the horses.

He was still recovering when we heard the hoof beats of an approaching horse. The rider turned out to be Jiang Wei, on whose face an expression near to panic appeared when he saw the Prime Minister coughing into his handkerchief, on hands and knees in the grass.

"Prime Minister!" he cried, dismounting and rushing forward.

"What's happened?" Zhuge Liang croaked out, between coughs. "Anything urgent?"

"You were gone so long, we started to worry about you. A soldier was arrested for assaulting one of the peasants. He killed a man, and raped his daughter."

Zhuge Liang's brow knit. He rose, sliding his handkerchief into his sleeve and frowning deeply. "The soldiers have strict orders not to harm the peasants. If attacks like these are permitted, we will lose the people's trust."

"He is being held, awaiting your judgment," said Jiang Wei.

"To make an attack on the commoners… that is directly counter to our late lord's wishes. Put him to death!"

"Yes, Your Excellency." Jiang Wei paused, not so much because of the order itself, as because of the tone in which it was issued. Zhuge Liang had spoken with a cold venom unlike his usual detached manner. The young man glanced over his mentor's face. He looked to me for guidance, but I had none to offer. Our defeat seemed all but certain. Avoiding his eyes, I went to collect the horses.

"… Prime Minister, is anything wrong?" Jiang Wei ventured hesitantly.

Zhuge Liang did not answer him. He only sighed, and turned away.

After a moment, the young warrior retreated to relay the Prime Minister's orders. I brought Zhuge Liang's horse.

"My dear, you should rest," I said to him, helping him onto the mount. "You are overworked and tired. How can you think clearly under such conditions?"

He made a noncommittal sound. I saw him withdraw his handkerchief, anticipating another cough perhaps, but then he only shook his head, as though to clear it of a faint buzzing, and urged his horse along the trail back to camp.

_(AN: I'm not satisfied with this chapter, but it's not the focus of my story anyway... If I overcome my laziness I'll revise it.)_


	3. In sickness and in health

_(AN: This is a story I've basically thrown aside. I reread it, realized it was way too melodramatic for my taste, and that I can't bring myself to work on it anymore. I definitely prefer "A Star Falls," which is a one-shot fic... and I think it conveys the gentle melancholy I was aiming for much better than this fic does. However, I looked back and realized I had a few other scenes written that have points to them I like. So, I'll post those chapter scraps__.)  
_

_(3.1) _

I was finishing up some drills with the soldiers when I heard Wei Yan grumbling to fellow officers. He had a right to complain; Zhuge Liang disliked him, and acted upon that dislike by giving him tedious, undesirable tasks. They have despised each other for as long as I can remember. Usually I'm sympathetic to Wei Yan; but as I heard his complaints, I felt anger churning within me.

"… why should the entire campaign depend on one man's health?" growled Wei Yan. "If he had given me the troops I asked for and allowed me to attack the Wei forces from one direction, while he came in another, we'd have captured the capital long ago. I admit he was brilliant when he was younger… but now I think he's getting senile. His orders have gotten us nowhere."

"Wei Yan!" I stepped out from the crowd of soldiers, fingers clenched around the hilt of my scythe. "How dare you speak that way! If we achieve victory, it will be because of his efforts. Watch your tongue!"

He appeared startled to see me, but he only scowled. "'_If_ we achieve victory'?" he repeated. "So, even you've begun to doubt him."

This stung more because it was true, and it made me angry. "How dare you," I growled. "Such talk demoralizes the men, and in no way helps deal with the problem of Sima Yi."

"Sending me out everyday to whine at Sima Yi is no help, either," snapped Wei Yan. "The Prime Minister does it only to spite me. You know this, and do nothing to stop him!"

"You have your orders, and you will obey them. And if I hear anymore of this treacherous talk from you…" I pointed my blade at him. "You will answer for it."

He snorted, but wisely did not reply, and turned away from me.

"Be patient awhile longer," I told the men. "We will capture the central plains, but Sima Yi is a cunning adversary; we must not act rashly against him."

"Does our glorious Prime Minister have some wonderful plan to help us accomplish this?" demanded Wei Yan.

I glared at him, but his question was one that demanded an answer, for the soldiers were looking to me expectantly. I drew in a long breath, and then said, "When does he not? Of course he has a plan. You'll learn it soon enough. For now, just follow your orders."

Wei Yan appeared unconvinced, but the soldiers were somewhat more gullible. Many of them had campaigned with Zhuge Liang long enough to know that his strategies were almost unfailingly reliable.

I only hoped that would prove true this time…

_(3.2) _

So many moments strung together form the whole that is a lifetime. These moments hang like stars in the emptiness of memory. They are precious; from them we form a picture of who we are, and who we once were.

I cannot but compare my husband now to the man I knew three decades ago. How very much the same he is… and yet how completely different. He has become like a stranger to me. There is a particularly vivid moment burned into my recollection. It is so trivial, and yet at the same time it defines my memory of him then. I do not know why, out of all the time we shared together, this particular incident remained so precious to me. Such a small thing, really… Silly, and rather sentimental. Yet when I look at us now, and view from a distance my husband's tent… I remember it, treasure it like the dying embers of a fire about to go out.

It was the dead of winter, and snow covered the cottage. That night we were huddled together in the main room, reading by lamplight from various texts. The house was cold. We shared a thick blanket, draped round our shoulders; it and our body heat kept away the chill. The hour grew quite late, near to midnight, and I felt my eyelids growing heavy. I set down my book, but I had no desire to leave the warmth of the blanket, cross the freezing house, and retire to a frigid bed. I yawned, and leaned against my husband, thinking to go to sleep whenever he did.

He absently stroked my hair, his fingers gentle along my skin. And then… it seems I fell asleep, for next I knew I felt groggily aware of a pain in my neck. I lifted my head, wondering at my odd position, and realized I was still lying out in the main room with him. The lamp was burning much lower. He was still reading.

I got up, resigned then to the inevitability of crossing the freezing house, and retired to our room. Sinking under the cool blankets, I wrapped myself up and waited to feel warm. From the level of the oil I knew several hours had passed, and it was the dead of the night. It was not all that unusual for my husband to find something so interesting in his studies that he will neglect sleep, and I assumed he would read until he finished or until morning. In fact, he came in shortly after I did.

We both rose rather late. It wasn't until I was preparing breakfast that it occurred to me that Zhuge Liang had left his text unfinished. Yet I still didn't make the connection, and he himself said nothing. It was only later as I was sitting huddled with a blanket around my shoulders that I remembered.

I had been sleeping on him. Had he risen to retire, he would have woken me. And… it wasn't something I wondered. It was something I knew – he had continued to read for several hours so as not to disturb my rest. Into the dead of night, by the waning lamplight, just so I could sleep peacefully.

It was the sort of thoughtful thing he would never have mentioned, and when I brought it up he smiled and insisted he had enjoyed reading and hadn't wanted to stop; but I knew from the affection in his eyes the truth. A small incident, but it remained with me… A spark of warmth in the memory.

_My dear, how much you loved me then…_

Things have changed between us. We have grown far apart.


	4. till death do us part

_(AN: This is an utterly pointless flashback, no other way to look at it. And yet, it's my favorite part of this whole unfinished fic. I can't explain why. Something about it just feels more real than the rest. I like it.) _

There were few times over the course of my marriage that my husband laid any restrictions on me. His way was to encourage my talents, not stifle them. Often he came to me for advice, or to consult me on the possible design of something or other, or on the signs we could see in the stars. But when we joined Liu Bei a matter came up which had been irrelevant until then. My husband did not mind my training in the martial arts. But to allow me into battle – that was another matter. It worried him particularly because he did not want our young son, Zhuge Zhan, to be motherless. He told me my responsibility to my family came first; there was no need for me on the battlefield.

If Liu Bei's forces had been strong, and the ranks filled with able warriors, perhaps his argument would have been justified. But at the time Liu Bei was struggling, and needed every able officer he could get. I said as much to my husband, who continued to refuse.

It was not usually my habit to argue with him if he was firm on a matter; but this time I would not be persuaded. I pestered, and threatened, and told him it was selfish of him to put his family before the welfare of his lord, to whom he had sworn service. Finally he relented, and by the next day, he seemed to have resigned himself to it. He asked me to accompany him on a short patrol. We saddled horses and out we went, discussing military strategy. On an isolated stretch of road, we were suddenly attacked by a group of bandits.

"Dismount!" cried the leader, whose face was concealed by a bandana. "Drop your weapons, if you value your lives."

My husband, as usual, had no weapon. His brow furrowed, and he called, "Yan Bao, is that you? When did you become a bandit?"

The bandit's stance faltered. He looked hesitantly at his companions, then cried angrily, "Dismount, or be cut to ribbons!"

"Your uncle would be ashamed to learn what his nephew has fallen to!" said Zhuge Liang.

"Enough!" cried the young man. "Get them! Cut them apart!"

Zhuge Liang drew his horse back, saying, "Don't harm them."

I charged past him, scythe at the ready. With the awareness that this Yan Bao was some acquaintance, I kept my weapon on the defensive, waiting for a chance to disarm my foes. In moments, their small band had surrounded me; but they were poorly trained. A few well placed strikes from the wooden part of the scythe knocked down three of my enemies. Another I disarmed. I felt the cold steel of a blade scrape my arm, but I paid this no heed as I sliced the leg of another foe. Finally, only Yan Bao was left. I parried his blow and halted my scythe at the skin of his throat.

"Don't kill me!" he cried, throwing down his weapon and raising his hands.

Zhuge Liang rode forward as I pulled away the scythe. He dismounted and examined the leg of the man I had sliced. Astonished, I stared at him. Satisfied that the wound was superficial, he turned to me and noticed the injury on my arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," I said, glancing at the injury. It was shallow, and to show him how little it meant to me I flexed my arm. He gestured at the bandits.

"Forgive them, they were acting under my orders."

"They were _what_?"

"I was still feeling qualms about allowing you on the battlefield. Though you have always fared well in training, it is a very different thing to fight on the field, against enemies bent on taking your life. Furthermore, you have never struggled against superior numbers. So I arranged this test."

That was typical of my husband. I inclined my head and said, "Are you satisfied with the result?"

"Yes; you handled yourself very well. I can find no fault with your performance."

Later that evening, however, as the two of us were walking along with our toddler, Zhan, he admitted, "To be honest, I wish you had fared a little more poorly; it would give me an excuse to keep you from the battlefield."

"You worry too much," I replied. "I will be fine."

"Perhaps… but even so, what will I do with our son while you're out fighting?"

"I suppose you'll have to watch over him," I replied, scooping the boy up and pushing him into his father's arms.

"Hm." Zhuge Liang looked doubtful.

So did Zhan. He was not used to spending much time with Liang, and the prospect of being left alone with only his father brought a look of consternation to his face.

"And no more tests to assure my fitness for the field," I said, pointing to my arm.

Zhan pouted. "Bad test hurt mother," he accused, reaching up to yank Liang's beard.

This surprised me as much as it did Liang, who took the naughty boy's hand and said, "Let's not pull on your father's beard, child." Zhan grunted, and twisted, struggling fiercely to be free. He strained toward me and squealed, writhing until Zhuge Liang dropped him. The boy ran behind me and glared at his father.

"What a precocious child," said Zhuge Liang.

"I wonder where he gets it from," I answered, arching an eyebrow at him

"Perhaps from the mother who drove her father to distraction with her willfulness, and now insists on marching out to the battlefield."

"Oh? Well, I've heard stories from Master Fledgling Phoenix about how you behaved as a child..."

"They're probably not true," replied Zhuge Liang. "Shiyuan just likes to tell stories."

"What about the time your uncle was asleep and—"

"Sh," Zhuge Liang interrupted me quickly, with a glance at Zhan. "Let's not give the boy any ideas."

I grinned, as Zhan promptly piped up, "What? What did you do? Father, what?"

"He must not have been too pleased about it," I remarked.

"Neither was I, after the punishment I received," said Zhuge Liang. To the querying toddler he added, "Child, stop yapping."

"But what?" persisted Zhan. "What, father? What? What?"

Dealing with an intelligent and overly curious toddler can be very trying at times. I was used to it; but his father wasn't. I watched, amused, as an exasperated Liang finally silenced the boy by swinging him up onto his shoulders. Zhan squealed with delight, and clung tightly to his father.

"You can stay up there if you're quiet; but pull my whiskers again and down you go," said Liang.

This was, of course, exactly the wrong thing to say to an attention-seeking child. Zhan promptly seized hold of his beard, and Zhuge Liang hauled him off and swung him down, much to the boy's delight. Seeing he was to be set on the ground, Zhan struggled fiercely, clinging to his father's sleeve and trying to pull himself back up. When he was dislodged and plopped in the grass, he scrambled to his feet and returned to his father, trying to scale his robe. Zhuge Liang finally scooped him up and tucked him under one arm. The boy kicked and thrashed, giggling as he tried with the frantic energy of a puppy to free himself.

I was trying, and failing, to stifle my laughter at the sight.

Zhuge Liang cast a brief glance at the squirming bundle under his arm. "It's like raising a monkey."

"He just woke from his nap, so he's rather energetic," I replied.

"Does he attack you?"

"No."

"I'm a tiger," growled the child. He made hissing noises. When Zhuge Liang set him down, he pounced at his leg.

"I think he's been spending too much time with Zhang Fei," said Zhuge Liang.

"He's a little overactive tonight," I said. "But he's nothing compared to Xing Cai. That child is impossible."

At that moment, we came across Zhang Fei and his "impossible" child. Slightly younger than Zhan, she did not know how to speak well yet, though she was a smart girl. He was leading her by the hand, giving her a bit of a frustrated look as she listed far to one side, using his grip as a counterbalance so she could stumble along at a slant. "You're walking like an ape," he growled, tugging her upright. But she persisted in her ape-walk, leaning and letting him carry much of her weight until she saw Zhan. Jerking free of her father's grasp, she rushed forward.

Zhang Fei paused, brows bristling together as he glared at Zhuge Liang. My husband only smiled at him. With a snort, Liu Bei's younger brother turned to me and said wearily, "Would you mind watching her for a few hours? My wife's sick… I can't take any more of the brat."

"Not at all, general," I replied.

Zhang Fei muttered a quick thanks and strode away. I think he was embarrassed at having to manage his unruly daughter. I turned to Zhuge Liang, who released Zhan to a fierce collision with Xing Cai.

"Good. Let them kill each other," he said.

I laughed at this unparental remark, and together we stood and watched the toddlers' playful rumble.

_(4.2)_

_(AN: Had I actually continued the story properly, there would be a scene here about the rain falling at Shangfang Gorge, ruining Zhuge Liang's last scheme. But I never got that far. I did, however, have one scene written from afterwards, so here it is...)_

Zhuge Liang's health continued to deteriorate after the failure at Shangfang Gorge. He persisted in his long working hours, despite my frequent requests that he take better care of himself. Sima Yi was now even more determined to hold his defensive position, and received an order from the Emperor ordering him to do so. When this news reached our camp, Zhuge Liang said, "It's Sima Yi's way of keeping his army quiet, while demoralizing ours."

"What can we do?" queried Jiang Wei, exchanging worried glances with me.

The Prime Minister only shook his head. His eyes, once so sharp and clear, had of late become dull and listless, like the polished eyes of a doll. He was well aware of the difficulty of our situation, and trying to think of a way around it; but each day he seemed to be further from us. I knelt in front of him, murmuring his name. He shook his head, but this did not seem to help to clear his thoughts. Leaning his head on his hand, he gave in to his cough, and gestured for us to leave him.

"At this rate, he won't last long," Jiang Wei said to me outside. "We have to persuade him to stop overworking, and take care of his health. Otherwise…"

"I'll see what I can do," I said, with a sinking feeling in my heart. Oh, how reluctant I was to go to this confrontation, knowing how he would resist my words, and be angered at me for them. But I had to try, to force him to relax his efforts at the very least, and pay his illness some mind; even if it would alienate me from him to do so.

Later that evening, I came to his tent. He was writing – he was often writing these days. He did not even glance up at my entrance. Hunched over his desk, he looked as if he might collapse; yet the brush continued to flow across the page.

I knelt in front of him. "My dear, you must take care of yourself better," I urged him gently. "You overwork yourself. If your illness worsens, how will we continue? Please rest. There's no need for you to work so hard."

It was some while before he answered. The words came slowly, in a voice drained of energy. "… Thank you for your kind concern."

I bit back tears of exasperation, and sought some reply that he might actually listen to. My eye was drawn to the slight tremble of his brush over the paper. He blinked, and rubbed at his eyes. Then he set the brush to the paper again, but hesitated, looking at it as if he couldn't quite see it. Frowning, he let the brush fall, and leaned his head on his hand.

Dizziness. He had been sick this way before, putting an end to a different campaign. At the time he had complained of a certain fuzziness to his thoughts, and that his mind was confused.

"You must rest," I told him, trying hard to control the rising urgency in my voice. I brushed away tears.

My husband, if he heard the emotion in my voice, gave no sign of it. "Please take dictation for me," he said.

I was astonished at this stubbornness. Staring at him in incredulity for a moment, I shook my head. "No. My husband, you must rest."

He seemed startled at this direct defiance. It surprised him enough that he lifted his head to look at me. Then he sighed in annoyance, turning away and calling for one of his attendants.

"Your Excellency." One of the men standing guard outside entered and bowed.

"Bring Jiang Wei," said Zhuge Liang.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

I felt my mouth drop open. I was appalled – the man was so stubborn, and foolish! This was too much. Whatever restraint had remained in me snapped. I slammed a hand down on his desk and collared him.

"Listen to me," I snarled through tears, "You are the prime minister of the empire, and the chief commander of the army. You cannot work yourself into sickness like this. Do you have any idea what a blow it will be to the empire if you die? I have tried, so hard, to preserve your health, but you won't listen… You expect me to stand by, and just watch you slowly die, all because you're too stubborn… You are the most exasperating person in the world to care for!"

He pulled back, freeing himself from my grip. His brow furrowed, and he answered harshly, "I do not have much time left. Whether I rest or not, I know I am dying; I would rather spend what little time remains usefully. I must finish this letter to His Imperial Highness… and there are other things I must complete… while there is still time."

This speech silenced me completely. I stared at him, unable for some moments to speak. For the first time, I perceived that this was not another illness like the last, from which he would eventually recover. All this while I had seen him fading away, but had thought it impermanent. He would retreat or obtain a victory, and with rest be nursed back to health.

No… I had not seen it. Had not until that moment realized he was _dying_. The truth hit me like a blow. I couldn't see, for the burning in my eyes. Sinking to the floor, I turned away from him, so that he could not see my tears.

He said nothing. There was only silence, except for his occasional coughing.

Jiang Wei arrived. I had not yet mastered my tears, and kept my face averted. I heard the rustle of cloth as Zhuge Liang shifted slightly.

"Your Excellency?" said Jiang Wei.

"I'm sorry; it is nothing," said Zhuge Liang wearily. "You may go."

Jiang Wei turned to me, his youthful eyes full of concern. He looked back to his teacher, and seemed about to speak, but the Prime Minister must have gestured at him to leave, for he reluctantly turned away.

After he had gone, I eventually got my tears under control. I sat silent, saying nothing. I did not know what to say.

He remained leaning over his desk, arm braced against it as if the effort of holding himself up cost him. Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I have been a very poor husband to you."

This was the last thing I expected him to say, and it hurt to hear it; it was so far from what I thought about him. I objected quickly, turning to clasp his hand. He looked up at me. His eyes were so tired, it made my heart break to look at them.

"When we married," he said slowly, "you did not expect a life of turmoil… It was my decision that sacrificed us to the world's chaos. You should have been able to have a quiet… peaceful life…"

"No, my dear, no, that's not what I wanted!" I insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. "You did not promise it, and I did not wish it. I would rather fight to end the chaos than selfishly leave others to do so. I was blessed with the good fortune of being able to work at your side. What greater honor could there be? There is no one I revere more, no one I am more proud of than you, my husband."

Zhuge Liang's eyes lowered, shadowed with grief. "I have accomplished so little…" He coughed, and his hand trembled in mine as he said, "How will I face our lord in the afterlife?"

His despair was like a hole inside me. I shook my head, unable to speak, and embraced him. When I found my voice I murmured, "You have done so much… You gave him Chengdu, and saved him from Cao Cao…" But these were shallow comforts, I knew. We both knew that he had failed to achieve Liu Bei's dream, that had been so tenderly entrusted to him. To fail that trust broke his heart.

I sought desperately for something, anything to say to give us hope. "Lu Xun may yet score a victory against Wei," I said. "If he does we will have a chance. Between their forces and ours, we can still triumph."

"Yes…" He looked neither hopeful nor cheered at these words. He no longer looked sad, either. Only very, very tired. With a sigh, he said, "Perhaps… Lu Xun will win…"

I looked at him, waiting for him to say more, but he seemed to have no energy for contemplation on the subject. He looked listlessly down at our hands, intertwined on the table. I do not think he saw them.

After a few minutes, I disengaged myself and picked up the brush. Turning the paper around to face me, I murmured, "What comes next…?"

Zhuge Liang stirred himself from his silence. He began reciting, pausing occasionally to cough or catch his breath. Dutifully, I recorded his words. We kept on like this for an hour, until he felt well enough to take the brush and continue himself.

_(AN: From here on, it was just going to spiral into more melancholy and depressing stuff. There was one sort of funny flashback with Pang Tong that lightened it up a bit, but for the most part the story was going to plunge into gloom. There's a scene where Yue Ying is weeping at his bedside. He wakes up out of his illness and makes some effort to comfort her, and tell her that he knows she blames herself for his failing health, but it's not her fault, etc... It's one of the few late-in-life scenes where there's some evidence of his love for her. In the midst of sickness, he struggles to comfort her. Right, yeah... sad. _

_Let's see... what else in my notes? A later scene, when Zhuge is more fully alert, after the failed prayer and whatnot, Yue Ying finds him in his tent, sitting at his desk. But he's not working. He's not sleeping, not thinking, not looking sad or hopeful or anything at all. Just calm. But that's because he's completely empty inside, because he knows he has lost. There is nothing left in him... Yeah. More sad. _

_ But I won't write it. So there. :P The world is spared the depressive tragedy of ZL's death, or the horrible melodrama that might have resulted from any attempt on my part to finish this fic. But you get the idea, eh?)  
_


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